


Beneath the Viscum album

by LiathLining (ActuallyAMenace)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Fangs, Inspired by Art, M/M, Mistletoe, True Love, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27909496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyAMenace/pseuds/LiathLining
Summary: A year ago Jaskier sort of adopted a great white wolf.  One year later, and he's come to realize that maybe he should have asked more questions.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 323





	Beneath the Viscum album

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/Sinahc1/status/1334739463205883904?s=20) adorable artwork

Being in love with a wolf isn't a normal occurrence in ones life, and Jaskier doesn't know whether to think it better or worse that the wolf in question seemed to possess a human like sentience. He tended not to dwell on either side of this particular coin unless particularly lonely...or _drunk_. But it was easy to talk to someone other than himself on the long roads, to pick apart and interpret expressions into answers to posed questions. It will have been a year of companionship come this year's celebration of Yule, long months of worry, and more so of a rocky construction of trust. The wolf had left here and there, only to circle back to his side eventually, occasionally dirty or bringing along gifts with his reappearance. 

* * *

The bard had come across the frighteningly large beast on his way into some uncreatively named town in hopes of finding an inn after a last minute cancellation with a court. Instead of more coin, he had found a massive white wolf limping along side the tree line, one leg and the coat of its underarm dripping in crimson. There had been gnashing of teeth, that of which Jaskier believed to be fair, and plenty of terse words, but eventually Jaskier had gotten them settled in the stables of an inn, which was better than the barren winter wood. Smeared blood and plenty of dramatics tired both parties out until they settled into a bed of hay, splitting a dinner of dried meats, the wolf taking the bite sized pieces with the utmost care. From that evening on, Jaskier had a very intimidating white shadow. For the longest time he had just called it _wolf_ figuring he would likely be less attached should something happen. How wrong he was, he loved that damn beast after the first week. 

It had taken meeting a Witcher to finally settling on a name. They had literally bumped into the armored man, along with his twin swords (and an impressive set of facial scars,) in a pub. He had had returned Jaskier's apologies with a lopsided smile, offering his hand without fear to the white furred companion at his side. Wolf had immediately pressed himself into the stranger's personal space, tail swaying with his relaxed mood as he sniffed from boots to belt loops.  
  
"Cute pup. He got a name?" His voice was deep, but carried a warmth that Jaskier wouldn't mind listening to for a bit longer. Jaskier got the over the strange site of his wolf and a Witcher quickly, rushing to answer. "Uh, no. I just call him Wolf, he answers well enough when he wants to." The Witcher chuckled, the facial scars glinting in the low light of the building, his calloused hands playing with large white ears. "He looks like a Geralt to me." He had given the bard a wink and a small wave. "See you around bard." Wolf had wined in the loss of the affection, pacified only when Jaskier delivered some attention of his own. "Geralt? It does suit you." Wide yellow eyes had focused on him with an intensity that he felt in his spine, but was quickly forgotten in the wake of his call to preform. 

* * *

A light dusting of snow had begun to fall as the odd pair reached the fields outside the city walls, the land draped in white save for small tufts of green from the emerging winter crops. By now, the wolf had earned somewhat of a name for himself while traveling at his side, a developed reputation of _the bard and his white wolf._ It wasn't very creative, but it helped to get them rooms in most inns without too much of an argument. The snow picked up just as they reached the doorstep of his home. He grinned down at the wolf at his side, slipping a heavy bronze key from around his neck and into the lock. "I'm afraid it isn't much, but there's a hearth, and we don't have to pay." He paused, smiling down at Geralt. "Perhaps I'll even let you sleep on the bed." He got a _chuff_ in response, pointed ears comically pulled back above narrowed eyes of gold. Jaskier laughed as he let them both in, shutting and bolting the door behind them as a swell of winter wind blew against the stoop.

"Home sweet home, or as much of a home as you can have when traveling as much as I do."

The bard side stepped the various sheet draped furniture, putting his focus on getting a fire going before the setting sun stole away their only source of light. He had sent word to a regular caretaker of the home that he would be returning for the winter, meaning that he didn't have to worry about clearing the floor or chopping wood immediately after getting home. It took a fair bit of work with his chilled fingers, but soon a cheery fire was crackling in the hearth, shedding light and warmth into the room as he placed candles around the sitting area and the small kitchen set off of its side. He repeated the process on the upper floor, taking the covers off of the lone bed while he was at it. The linens might be a bit dusty, but comfortable and soft. 

When he finally returned to the main floor, there was no sight of his wolf, until the couch moved, a long nosed specter rising beneath the sheet at the sound of his return. A sudden rush of fear sent the bard's heart into his throat, sticking there until the more sensible part of his mind took over. 

"You menace!" Jaskier uncovered the beast, whose long tongue lolled with some canine driven mirth that seemed to only come with trouble at Jaskier's expense. He pointed a finger at the beast, glaring. " _You_ are a hellion! I should make you sleep outside." The wolf, having heard this threat before, returned to the floor and set about removing furniture coverings with his teeth, pulling them into a nest like pile before the hearth. Human like sentience indeed, or at least too smart for his own good. By the time the work was done, most of requiring the use of thumbs, they had at least managed to make the barren space into a cozy winter home it had the potential to be. 

  
Jaskier was distracted on his way into the kitchen, hoping to hunt down a bottle of wine, when something caught his eye. In the center of the doorway and hanging above his head from a crimson ribbon was a ball of mistletoe, fresh and crisp with white berries. "I suppose my reputation precedes me, though I doubt I will be entertaining much company aside from my companion from the wilds." He eyed the plant once more with a smile, and chuckled when the wolf trotted over to his side, sitting on his haunches before the bard, as if waiting expectantly. "Well, there are traditions I suppose, though I don't know if you've behaved well enough for a kiss." He pretends to mull it over, stroking his chin until he's being nosed in the chest. "Alright, Alright! Don't bite my face off please."

Jaskier carded a hand through thick white fur before placing a quick kiss on the wolf's snout, chilled, wet, and coal black. "Happy Yule my friend." The look he received was unimpressed, though it disappeared quickly as a cloud appeared between them with a sudden _oompf_ that left the smell of wood smoke and hot metal in it's wake.

Where he was looking down at a face of scruffy fur before, now his vision was filled with a bare and very well defined chest. Looking up, Jaskier is met with the sight of plump pecs and delicious abdominal muscles bring a flush to his cheeks as blood rushes below his belt. Jaskier jerks his head up with the heat of it. The gold eyes catch his attention first but any focus he has flies out the window as a calloused hand gently grips his jaw, a thumb gently stroking his chin. Jaskier is gaping like a fish, stunned into silence for once in his life. The man, for that's the only thing that could truly describe him, chuckles, a low dangerous sound that curls in his gut with heat. "You've managed to break my curse little bard." His grin his sharp but honest, making lines form at the edges of his eyes, and candlelight glint off of pointed fangs. "I- Well-" He stutters, trying to gather his wits with some manner of reason. "Wait! You've been human this whole time! You could have _tried_ communicating!" The bard avoids any and all thoughts he had told the wolf in the past year, keeping that mess with a ten foot pole.

"Witcher." Geralt, for that is just going to be what Jaskier keeps calling him, speaks low, nearly inaudible to the point where he nearly misses it. "Bless you." The white haired man snorts with amusement, pressing closer into Jaskier's space. "I'm not human. I'm a Witcher. Though you already know that my name is Geralt."

"Oh." He thinks back to the Witcher they had met in the tavern. "Well that explains some of those nasty scars for sure."

"Would you like to know what that curse was Jaskier?" The bard is helpless with that molten gold gaze on him, adoration shining around wide pupils of pitch black. His name, spoken from those pink lips nearly does the bard in, and a tremble of want shivers through him. "Perhaps. If this story ends well, it has the potential for a great ballad."

He holds his ground as the other stalks closer, presses into his space until those lips are brushing against his ear, speaking slowly. 

"A witch had told me that Witchers are difficult to love, more so without their exotic charm. I could only be freed by true loves kiss."

"O-Oh." Jaskier can feel the heat leading his face from pink to red, the meaning of those words sinking into his bones. "Bards know all about that, and what comes after"

  
_They don't even make it to the bed upstairs._

**Author's Note:**

> A saucy follow up will be posted before Christmas as a separate work


End file.
